Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1887-10-21
MISCELLANY.
POOR LASS :

The 3;45 horse-car, or tram as they call
it there had just gone jingling down the
white road to Swinton, which ran at the
bottom of the field lying in front of the
Pendlebury Children's Hospital A well
knit young fellow was walking up one of
the little gravel paths that lead from the
sweep of the carriage drive, between the
square grass plots, to the patients visit
ors door, in the side of the long central
corridor, one blazing September afternoon.
His moleskin trousers and corduroy waist
coat made with sleeves, and faced with
dark brown velveteen open below the top
button, over a blue guernsey, made one at
once feel sure that neither horses nor boats
were totally unfamiliar to him. And last
ly the seaskn cap which he took Off and
twirled in his great hands as he reached
the door, would let anyone who has ever
walked on the towing path of a canal into
the secret Of his apparently double occupa-
ton.
John Thrupp was IA bargee and a fine
strapping young fellow an easy six feet
in his blue worsted socks, deep IN the chest
and with not an ounce of superfuous fat
anywhere.
If his brow was low, with the hair that
fell over it coarse and tan-colored, it was
broad and "stood upright and the eyes
under it were good, honest blue ones The
clean shaved lips met firmly over two rows
of strong white teeth in jaw heavy but
not brutal. No one could call John Thrupp
a lout if he was bargee and though he
stopped "A little from the shoulders it wasn't
the outcome of a slouchy nature in the
man, but simply because he could, and did
if necessary, drag, by rope over his
his shoulder, heavy numbering barge that
to stir SO far from being a lout, John
Thrupp had two at least of the indispensa-
BILE attributes of a gentleman. He was a
man of his word, and he had a love of
cleanliness-inside and out. That he paid
his way--if only along the towing path of
u canal-and worked as hard as he had
strength for were, ! think, two other very
gentlemanly habits but many folk may
think that | am quite wrong about this ;
and as / want only TO tell you a plain tale,
We won't go into so disputed subject any
further Mind you, do not believe that
all bargees are honest or even clean |
don't indeed-but this particular bargee
| was
He loved his cold plunge in the Broads at
daylight, told the truth as unvaryingly,
and enjoyed Il clean shave as keenly as any
gentleman stroke in a Varsity Eight.
Well This bargee turned shade paler
in spite of his six feet and broad shoulders
as he caught sight of the rows Of white
beds with the red jacketed little forms in
| them, in the wards on either side of the
path He moistened his lips, and swallow
ed little nervously as he rung a bell be
| side the open doorway that startled him by
Changing Just over his head. \ brisk voice
said
Come in come straight on - and do
ing so John found himself, after passing
through a small receiving room, in the
| long slate paved corridor with its pale
windows, and double sets of glass doors
opening into the long branching pavilion
wards The corridor looked intermiuable,
and the shafts Of sunlight, slanting through
the high windows on the right, seemed to
cut its great length into diagonal strips.
Two doctors in loose jackets and with
| bare heads were standing at the far end
talking but their voices did not reach to
where John stood, little dazed, and at a
loss how to proceed The same brisk voice,
now close behind him, remarked
We'll :" and paused.
John turned and saw blue gowned,
white aproned figure in high white cap,
sitting on polished bench against the dark
wall-looking for all the world like blue
|
oak shelf. The nurse-for it was a nurse
or at least Probationer land not a tile
had pencil and book in her hands and
without looking up went on rapidly:
who TO see How many Only your
self No infection of any sort at home
hope; whom did you say p glancing at last
up at poor Johns puzzled face, with heI
pencil ready to put a cross against the pa
tent he should ask for.
"a little girl at least young girl, sale
John. Nancy Battsen," adding a little
unsteadily "she was hurt-here," touch
ing his own broad chest.
Hayward Ward in the Special replied
the nurse getting up and standing by John
to point up the corridor. "Go straight VI
to the statue and turn into the glass door
to the left, under the lantern in the roof.
Thank you, ma'am," said John, going
as directed and then turned hesitatinglN
to her, and said "How is she, miss, please I!
But the nurse did not know She sale
she was "over on the other side in Liebert,
but that the sister in Hayward would tel
him.
Poor John did not understand at all wha
was meant but he thanked her and walked
up the corridor as directed, lurching a lit
tie from side TO side in his anxiety to pre-
vent his great nailed boots making such al
embarrassing noise.
Like all who are unaccustomed to life IL
"A hospital John thought every sound, ever
out there in the corridor, must waken SOM
poor soul. He looked at the two trim
nurses who passed him higher up quite re
proachfully for actually laughing and chat
tering so close to his poor little girl wh
had been SO nearly killed
\ sickening expectation and almost ter
ror made Johns hands cold and his eye
burn, as he turned into the first glass door
and found himself in a shorter corridor
with linen cupboards and a bright ittl
ward kitchen on one side in front a lon
vista of polished boards, rows of beds am
white covered tables. The afternoon sV
streamed in and touched the shining Jug
and glass jars, and punches of flowers, an
! the white-capped head of a nurse, VIII
was bending over the nearest table, O
which huge pewter ink-stand LITERAL
gistened, it had been so perseveringly bur
D nished
S The closed door on his left opened an
the sister, a tall thin woman in a dar
green serge gown and a variation of tn
prevailing white cap on her white hail
came out saying to the unseen occupant c
D the little eight sided room within, Il don
n think there is anyone coming to see yol
1 dear 1t is nearly s. when the visitors 6
a unless, " she said, facing John, this
your brother. Have you come to see MAI
cy Battson, young man = she added.
YES, ma am, said John and the siste
stood on one side and pushed open the dool
t and said Here's this brother of ours I
n last She turned to John and added '.
o is just as well yon didn't come earlier. 81
e mustn't talk much nor move. You talk
$ her, and stepped swiftly across the slat
o paved passage toward the ward but pause
Il as John, who stood in the doorway, lookin
T. at the little dark head on the pillow, in a
e agony of awkwardness, after a momel
r said
+ "She-Nancy isn't my sister, ma an
/. She's naught to me. At least-shes N
b. sweetheart had TO come, as her father
h had to go with the boat"
If "Very well, said the sister smiling al
IS disappearing.
it "Sweethearts" were rare visitors, as tn
n was a children's hospital
Nancy was really two and a half yea
3. over the age limit.
John creaked carefully over the floor al
ID sat down on the chair beside Nancys b,
s. and said
r "Wel, Nancy" in a voice so husky oi
,e might have thought he was a man of fee
y ing and not 'only bargee !'
n. "Well, John, said the black-eyed lit
= creature. whose dark curly hair lay still
70 the pillow though she put a rough lit
IN boys hand into Johns great fist. John n
1r tced she had her yellow beads round h
5y throat still, though she was wearing a was
n ed out blue flannel jacket belonging to t
~ ward, which struck him strangely,
w Don't move your arms, Nancy dear
s. he said speaking in almost a whisper, a
t. not daring TO clasp the hand laid in h
IN Are you better ~
At Nancy smiled up at him, still not movin
but pressing his hand little, and said
uXnn be friphtened of me. John H